


Mistress

by ravenhairedtrickster



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: F/M, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenhairedtrickster/pseuds/ravenhairedtrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He needs it like he needs his wings- like the crackling pain of his first transformation, how his breath rattled his ribs, how his teeth scraped together in order to stop a wretched sob from escaping. He needs the bite of the rope, the agony of being strung up and played with, craves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistress

He needs it like he needs his wings- like the crackling pain of his first transformation, how his breath rattled his ribs, how his teeth scraped together in order to stop a wretched sob from escaping. He needs the bite of the rope, the agony of being strung up and played with, craves it.

Diaval is stretched, muscles taunt and screaming; _hogtied_ , Maleficent murmurs, her lips against his ear, the promise of more to come in the teasing caress of her nails across his nipple. He cares not for the word, for he is no swine and just like the mangy wolf she turned him into he despises creatures who take no pride in their appearance. 

The pain she deals him is rich, cuts deep with the stroke of her whip, and his flesh heals as fast as it’s flayed. He shudders in its embrace, loses himself with every lash and somewhere along the way things spill past his lips, words he dares not say out of the safety of bondage.

He clucks his need, his admiration, and when she pinches his ear and pulls the feathers at his nape he drips onto the stone beneath. 

“Mistress,” he begs mindlessly, babbling with his chin pressed to his chest, unable to keep his head up. “Please, oh gods, please, I need… I need…”

He chokes as his breath catches in his throat, her eyes golden and green and menacing freeze his tongue. Diaval coughs, clears his throat and writhes in his bonds. He trembles, both loving and hating how the rope binding him tears into his flesh, how it sparks and catches flame, how the darkness within uncoils like a poisonous snake.

When he’s at his lowest point, tears streaming down his face, saliva dripping in long strings from his lips, blood and semen littering the stone, she stops. Her fingers, as usual, never cease to find the nooks untouched by the whip, and she caresses him like a lover might. 

Warm palms dip against his stomach and his cock jumps in anticipation. She doesn’t kiss him when she leans in close, instead she inhales and he shudders, knowing she’s going to bite him before she does. Her teeth sink deep, deeper than need be and at his breaking point Diaval allows a whimper to hiss past his clenched teeth. 

He crows as everything is shattered, keens as she pulls away- he knows the look of disgust on her face all too well. A warmth spreads through him, breathing life back into him. It’s too good to be true. Always too good and he struggles. 

She turns only when he calls, a broken “ _Maleficent_.” 

“Yes, pet?” She asks and suddenly she appears far more intimidating. 

“Please,” he mouths, his voice banished by a stern, unforgiving look.

“Please, what?”

Why she entertains him further Diaval doesn’t know. The outcome is always the same, he broke the rules and now he’ll be punished. 

If his head could hang any lower it would. He doesn’t dare ask it. _Please may I come?_

Maleficent laughs, an oddly whimsical sound that flutters through the magical haze she’s created. 

Diaval wonders if the other fairies can hear it. 

She purses her lips, but only for a second before turning on his heel. He stares at the place where her wings once were, how magnificent they must have been. 

“Diaval,” she says, and her gaze searches for his over her shoulder. “Be a good boy and learn from your mistakes. Remember, you’re my wings.”

He flinches, wishing he could scream; she leaves him as she always does, unraveled and aching for a release he seldom gets.

When she returns some hours later, her breath upon his lips is enough and he erupts with her name on his tongue. 

“What was that?” She asks some seconds later. 

“Mistress,” he corrects. “Mistress.”

Her fingers caress his cheek and he almost expects a slap though none comes. 

“Good, Diaval.”

He nods, averts his gaze and continues to mouth the title. _Mistress_ never Maleficent always.


End file.
